


Anger

by theillyrianwolf



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, please excuse the weird transitions, this is pretty bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theillyrianwolf/pseuds/theillyrianwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Root's death, Shaw is angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger

Shaw sat on the bench, drink in hand.  Her body was tense with agitation.  Finch could see anger in her eyes, and something akin to grief.  He was debating whether or not to speak when a memory floated in his ears.  A voice, soft and melodious: _If… the worst comes to pass… if you could give Shaw a message?_   And then his own voice: _I think she already knows._   But still, Harold had to make sure.  He owed it to her. 

“Miss Shaw… I think you ought to know… Miss Groves,” here Finch paused, “Root.”

            Shaw looked up and glared at Finch.  “Shut up, Harold.”

            “Miss Shaw.”

            “Harold, I said shut up.  Shut up about Root.”

            “She asked me to deliver a message.  I think you should know, Root cares- cared- quite a lot about you.”

            “I _know_ that, Finch.  I know.  So just shut up, okay?”

            Shaw could feel the anger boiling in her.  It filled her until she was almost trembling with the effort to keep it in.  She knew.  She knew how much Root cared about her, knew it with every sideways glance the hacker gave her, with every drawn out touch she gave Shaw.  And she hated it.  She hated that Root was so obvious with her _caring_ , because Shaw didn’t think anyone could care about her in that way.  She hated Root for bringing up this silly, tangled mess of feelings in her chest, because sometimes, just sometimes, Shaw wanted to touch her back.  Just for a second, maybe just a shoulder brushing against a shoulder or a hand fluttering on a back. 

            She hated that when she saw a flash of pretty brown hair or a slender figure her hopes involuntarily went high and her heart started beating quickly.  She hated that she found it harder and harder to roll her eyes and look angry every time Root laid a hand on her shoulder or gave her a little smile.

            Shaw remembered the day that Root- or Anna Ross- dressed up as a bear for a children’s birthday party.  She had still been locked up, handcuffed to the bench.  Root had been extra flirty that day, walking by and brushing her fingers though Shaw's hair and making Shaw shiver.  Root had come by before going to the birthday party and sat close to Shaw.  Super close.  Root was silent, her hair hanging limp framing her face. 

            Shaw turned her head and frowned, “Root?”

            Root glanced at her and Shaw could see the pain in her eyes.  “Shaw… I- uh.”

            Root seemed almost… nervous?  It was the first time Shaw had ever seen the hacker uneasy and not self-assured.  “Shaw, I need you to know that I gave you that sedative to protect you.”

            “You don’t need to protect me!  I never asked to be protected!”

            “You don’t need to ask.  You never need to ask.  I’ll always protect you,” Root said softly.

            Shaw coughed.  There was a long, drawn out silence.  Finally, Shaw said gruffly, “Thanks.”

            “Yeah.” 

            And the moment passed.  Root went on to dance and do whatever bears do at that kid’s birthday party.  Shaw figured out how to get out of her handcuffs, and Root stole Shaw’s drink. 

            But now, Root was dead.  Gone.  Never coming back. 

            And Shaw was angry.  Angry at Samaritan for killing her.  Angry at Finch and the Machine for not saving her.  Angry at Reese for no reason at all.  She was angry at Root for leaving her, for abandoning this hard world in favor of another.  But most of all, Shaw was angry at herself for not being there for Root.    

            So she took out her anger on Samaritan and its operatives.  And when she dived recklessly into a suicide mission, she didn’t care about Harold’s pleas and John’s low-voiced threats.  They couldn’t stop her.  And after raining hell on Greer’s safe house and killing almost all of his lackeys, Shaw finally met her fate.  Martine.

            “Sorry, Shaw.  Orders.”

            And Shaw nodded, resigned to her fate. 

            The click-boom of the gun wasn’t nearly as loud as the deafening silence that followed. 

 


End file.
